The Wooden O

I'll so carbonado your shanks

Here, gentles, may ye see Master Silber (he of the Light of Reason) speak most feelingly of another playwright, that wordmaster-royal Sir Noel Coward, and of an almost-lost play in which he crieth out upon war. Truly 'tis much unlike my Troilus or Henry Fifth, but no less worthy for that.

And if ye would feed the body as well as the soul, why then look no further than the House of Gode Cookery, where ye may find Pokerounce, Tartes of Flesshe, and one way to make a Foole. (I am certain, gentles, ye know many another.)